By D. A. & C. H. BUEHLER
VOLUME XXIIII
Go Feel what I have Felt.
(The circumstances which induced the writing
of the following most touching and thrilling lines,
are as follow. : A young lady of New York was
in the habit of writing for the Philadelphia Led
ger, 041 the subject of temperance. Her writings
W 41140 so full of pathos, and evinced such deep emo
tion of soul, that • friend of hoes accused her of
being a mania* on the subject of temperance,
whereupon she wrote the following lines
Go feel what I have hit,
On boar what I have borne--
Sink 'north a blow a fattier dealt.
And the cold world's rood mom
Then suffer on from year to year—
Thy sole relief the scorching tsar.
Go kneel es I have knelt,
Implore, beseech and pray—
Strive the besotted heart to melt,
The downward course to stay ;
Be dashed with bitter curse aside,
Your prayers burlesqued, your tears defied
do weed es I have wept,
O'er a loved lather's NH
80a every promised blessing swept—
Youth's sweetness turned to gall;
Life's fading flowers strewed all the way
Tbst brought me up to woman's day.
Go see what I have seen.
Behold the strong man bowed—
With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood,
And cold end livid brow ;
Go catch his withering felines, and see
There mirrored his soul's misery.
Go to thy mother's side,
And her crushed bosom cheer;
Thine own deep anguish hide,
Wipe from her cheek the bitter taw ;
Mark her worn frame and withered brow,
The grey that streaks her dark heir now,
With fading frame and trembling limb;
And trace the ruin back to him
Whose plighted faith in early youth
IPrrimised eternal love and truth,
Hut who, lorsworn, bath yielded up
'That promise to the cursed cop,
And led her down through love and light,
And all that made tier promise bright;
And cheinod her there, 'told wont and strife
Thin lowly (Wog. ■ drunkard'• wile :
And atamped on childhood's !fro w so mild
That withering blight, the drunkard's child.
Go hear and WA, and see end know,
All that we want hath felt and known;
Then look open the wine-cup's glow,
Sae if its besot) , eau atone—
Think if its Miser you will try,
When all preelaipt, Vs &ink and die!
Tell me I aar■ the howl!
Hole is a feeble word;
I hrothe—aemoa—my very sou!
With slrong dugsest u stirred—
When'ee I see, sr hear, or tell,
Of the dark beverage of Hell!
The Flowers
There grew a flower within a tranquil
valley, where a blue brook gurgleil. Sun
beams flashed upon it in the morning and
called it from its slumbers—and at night
it slept beneath tke careful eye of the pa
tient moon. Its tints were body as these
upon a youthful cheek ; its petals were soft
ma the lips of infants ; and its odors were
like the incense burnt to Venus upon
the altars of old. Its taper stalk bore
_green awF glossy learea that fluttered at
the coming of the breeze, like the sensitive
heart of a girl at the sound of her lover's
foot-falls--or glistened with early dew
drops, like the eye of a child that is moved
to tears.
A maiden loved the blossom ; for she
had found it while it was yet a bud—and
sho nourished it, as the mother nourishes
the babe upon her bosom. It became as
dear to her as a living thing—and she call
ed it her .piecole—her pet of blossoms.—
Daily she came to watch its fair unfolding
—and when, at length, it broke forth,
sweet as a smile and radiant as a blush, in
the full perfection of beauty, she sprinkled
it with water from the brook—and, sitting
beside it, warbled a song like the Trouba
dour's with her wild and witching voice.
And so far her affections went out to the
valley flower. But when she loved it most,
and came with her carresses to the place in
which it grew, behold it had withered and
fallen to the earth ! and she took it up with
weeping, and hid it in her bosom—and she
went no more to the tranquil valley. But
lit became a perpetual monitor to the maid
.:en—,and she found a sublime moral in her
withering treasure.
For when the tendrils of earthly friend
ships reached forth unto her heart, she re
membered her flower, and suffered them
not to cling too closely to the lattice of her
.sympathies—lest they, too, should wither,
l and the pleasures of their brief endurance
ibe swallowed up in the intenser bitter
►ness of their resignation.
And when love breathed its matchless
,eloquence in her ear, and she was pleased
with the impassioned earnestness of ita
beautiful logic, she thought of the dead
blossom at her breast, and suffered not her
lips to respond too ardently—lest, when
:she hatkpassed the turbulent Rubicon of
feeling,,love should also decay, and'' leave
,her twice widowed.
And Ashen beauty charmed her eyo—
:and wealth displayed its attractions—and
hope lit,its.silver lamps about her path—
then thelata of the dower became a living
"tempt, and her affections wire restrained
and her desires tempered.
So mig our bereavement often become
.our richest pha—wi may our affections
resultlin oar bestblessing. Happy is he
who . .kimes the rod Abut chastens him—and
An the •thicket of sorrow plucks the ama
ranth orperpetnal good.—Btfir. Nxprese.
At illanish, coettody,
,a Grimiest was
diebseded. A orowd surrounded, the saf
foM, sada. seem as the tolprit's head'fall,
di people rushed as 'if irensed, to dip
phases of to and paper is the 'trawling
Mood; as Aunts eseinetoertain diseases,
sod irides of their toonbers ea the kale!,
lw 'their Wag littwit prises.
The Indian Mother.
The affection of Indian parents for their
children, says Mrs. Moodie, in her Cana
dian smiles, entitled "Roughing it in the,
Bush," and the deference which they pay
to the aged, is a beautiful and touching
trait in their character.
One extremely cold, wintry day, as I
was huddled with my little ones over the
stove, the door softly unclosed, and the
moocasined foot of an Indian crossed the
door. I raised my head, for I was too
much accustomed to their sudden appear
1111C8 at any hour to feel alarmed, and per
ceived a tall woman standing silently and
respectfully before me, wrapped in a large
blanket. The moment she caught my eye
she dropped the folds of her covering film
around her, and laid at my feet the atten
uated figure of a boy, about twelve years
of ago, who was in the last stage of con
sumption.
"Papouse die," she said mournfully,
clasping her hands against her breast, and
looking down 'upon the suffering lad with
the most heartfelt expression of maternal
love, while large tears trickled down her
dark face. "Moodie's squaw save papouse
—poor Indian woman much glad."
Her child was beyond all human aid.—
I looked anxiously upon him, and knew,
by the pinched up features and purple hue
of his wasted cheek, that he had not many
hours to live. I could only answer with
tears for her agonizing appeal to my skill.
"Try and save him I All die but him.
(She held up five of her fingers.) Brought
him all the way from Matta Lake (Mad
Lake, or Lake Shemong, Indiana,) upon
my back, for white squaw to cure."
"I cannot cure him, my poor friend.—
He is in God's care ; in a few hours he
will be with Him."
The child was seized with a dreadful fit
of coughing, which I expected every
mo
ment would terminate his frail existence.
I gave him a tea-spoonful of currant jelly,
which he took with avidity, but could not
retain a moment on his stomach.
"Papoose die," murmured the poor wo.
man ; "alone—alone ! No papoose; the
mother all alone !"
She began re-adjusting the poor sufferer
in her blanket. I got her some food, and
begged her to stay and rest herself ; but
she was too much distressed to eat, and too
restless to remain. She said little, but her
face expressed the keenest anguish. She
took up her mournful load, pressed for a
moment his wasted, burning hand in hers,
and left the room.
My heart followed her a long way on her
melancholy journey. Think what this
woman's love must have been for that dy
ing son, when she had carried a lad of his
age six long miles, through the deep snow,
upon her back, on such a day, in the hope
of my being able to do him some good!—
Poor heart-broken mother! I learned
from Joe Muskrat's squaw, some days af
ter, that the boy had died a few minutes
after Elizabeth lon, his mother, reached
home.
Autumn.
We are now in the autumn of the year
—the season of golden hues, and fading
verdure. Nature's chill breath is imper
ceptibly passing over leaf, plant, and flow
er, and imparting to them all the tincture
of approaching decay. The green carpet
of creation is being superseded by ono of
the yellow or more motley color, and all
around and about us tell of the perishable
nature of things. It is a season pregnant
with refection, for it admonishes us that
decay is an inherent principle of Nature.—
It bids those of us who have not yet en
tered the "sear and yellow leaf ' of life to
prepare ourselves for that period, to hus
band our resources for it, as the farmer
does his harvest gathering, that we may
look back on life's summer with ‘ a quiet
glow of satisfaction, such as an autumnal
evening's sun imparts to the landscape.
To those who have already passed the
rubioon of middle-life, it tells them that the
advent of life's winter is fast approaching.
Like au index to a particular passage of a
book, it points to the termination of life's
journey—to death and to the grave I
Autumn is a chaste and gentle season;
it has not the mold, frigidity of winter about
it; it has not the coquetry of spring, nor
the fire and passion of summer. Like true
friendship, it brings a soothing balm ti
the mind, without operating in fiery action,
on the passions. Its winds are mild as a
mother's voice ; its suns shine on the world
calmly as a father smiles on hie beloved
family. We would that an autumn breese
would sing our requiems—weeeek no sweet
er music l
The world is all a fleeting *bow,
rot man's illusion given ;
The smile, °toy, the tears of wo.
Deceitful shine, deceitful Bow i
There's nothing tine but Heaven!
•A new buildin; material has been die.
covered and patented, wade of coke and
other substances. It will cost about one•
third of the eliy brisk. and is far superior
in point of durability:
Horne Tooke. being asked by..Georp
111. if hi played at cards, replied, 4,1 can
not, yoOr majesty, all a king frOm a
knave."
GETTYSBURG, PA., FRIDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 12,1852.
The Curfew Tolls. he.
Nothing could more fully or beautifully
illustrate the finer traits of Mr. Webster's
character, than the simple fact that when
the hour of his own dissolution was at hand,
hie mind should recur t 4 one of the most
beautiful creations of poetry that could,
without any impropriety, be applied to
himself. How singularly appropriate are
the two last stanzas to the great statesman's
dying moments :
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
Tit ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the eight
And ell the air • solemn stillness bolds,
We where the beetle wheels his droning Bight,
And drowsy tinkling. lull the distant folds.
• • • • •
Niteath those rugged elms, that yew tree'. shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering
heap,
Each in his narrow cell lorever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
• • •
The boast of henldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour;
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Mr. Webster's beautiful country home,
"the lowing herds" grazing in his mead
ows, "the rugged elms" that encircle the
mansion, and "the yew tree's shade" that
hangs over the graves of his children,
might well suggest the solemn reflections
contained in the concluding atanzas.—Buf.
Cour.
Fired Step to Rubio.
"My first step to ruin," exclaimed a
wretched youth, as ho lay tossing from
side to side on the straw bed in one
corner of the prison-house. "My first
step to ruin was going a fishing on the
Sabbath. I knew that it was wrong; my
mother taught me better; my Bible taught
me better. I didn't believe them, but I
didn't think it would come to this. I am
undone ! I am lost !"
Rorhaps he said, "It is too pleasant to
be cooped up in church. What harm is
there in taking a stroll in the woods?—
What harm in carrying my fishing-tackle
and sitting on the banks to fish ?"
What harm ? Why, the harm is, that.
God is disobeyed, who says "Remember
the Sabbath day to keep it HOLY." The
moment a youth determines to have his
own way, choosing his own pleasure before
God's will, that moment he lets go his
rudder, his compass, his chart; nothing but.
God's word can guide you safely over the
ocean of life. Give that up, and you get
bewildered; you are drifting.—child's
Paper.
THE DEATII OF \VEBSTER.—The fol
lowing beautiful lines of T. B. Read, which
the North British Review places among the
first of American poets, will be read with
interest:
The grnst are falling from us,—to the dust
Our flag droops midway, full of many sighs ;
A nation's glory and a people's trust
Lie in the ample pall where Webster lies.
The great are falling from us.—one by one,
As falls the patriarchs of the forest trees ;
The winds shall seek them vainly, and the sun
Gaze on each vacant space for centuries.
Lo. Carolina mourns her steadfast pine.
Which, like her main mast, towerered above
her realm ;
And Ashland hears no more the voice divine
From out the branches of her stately elm.
And Marehfield's giant oak, whose stormy brow,
Oft turned the ocean tempest from the west,
Lies on the shore he guarded long—and now
Our startled Eagle knows not where to rest.
The Two Sexes.
When the rakish youth goes astray,
friends gather around him in order to re
store him to the path of virtue. Gentle
ness and kindness are lavished upon him
to win him back again to innocence and
peace. No one would suspect that he had
ever sinned. But when a poor confiding
girl is betrayed, she receives the brand of
society, and is driven from the path of
virtue. The betrayer is honored, respected
and esteemed ; but hie heart-broken victim
knows there is no peaoe for her this side
of the grave. Society has no helping hand
for her, no smile of peace, no voice of for
giveness. These are earthly moralities un
known to heaven. There is a deep wrong
in them, and fearful are the consequences.
Are You Kind to Your Mother t
Who guarded you in health, and oom•
forted you when ill? Who hung over your
little bed when you was fietful, and put
the cooling draught to your parched lips ?
WhJ'taught you how to pray, and gently
helped you to learn to read? Who has
born with your faults, and been kind and
patient in your childish ways Who loves
you still, and who contrives and works sad
prays for you every dry you live f Is it
not your mother, your own dear mother?
Now let me ask you, "Are you kind to . your,
mother?"
"I feel," mos,ned a dying Cobbler, "that
I wax weaker each succeedingly day, that
I fast approach my end—a few stitches and
all will be over. In heaven there is rest
for the sole—earth bath no sorrow that
Heaven cannot heel. Having said ay/
that he wished, he calmly breathed his
lasi.
Human Happiness has no perfect secur
ity bat freedoni ;--freedom none but 'sir-
Atte ..—vinue none but knowledge ; and
neither ; freedom nor virtue nor knowledge
bee any rigor or immortal bops, except
in the principles of the Christian Faith,
and in the amnions of the Christian Re
ligion. •
"FEARLESS AND FREE."
Pn2ol IGe .4nwr4xl,4 MmengTr.
WomanlN Faith and Patience.
In the year 18—. I knew a beautiful
young girl, whose father lived near the
village of A---,South Carolina, and who
was early wedded to the man of her heart.
With the accomplishments of education.
refinement and wealth, she had also,
by the grace of 'God, that of sterling
piety.
At the death of her father, the busband
found himself in possession of a very hand-
some estate ; but it is hard to resist the
stades of fortune and the sunshine of pros
parity. Heat once became the devotee of
the world, and a lover of pleasure. He
soon loved to tarry long at the wine, then
to follow strong drink ; he becanie involved
in debt and was forced to sell rr uch of his
property to pay his creditors. After a
while, he removed and settled in the county
of I—, where he purchased a piece of land
for cultivation.
At this time I went to live with him,
and remained with the family about thir
teen months. Aad during this period 1
never knew hint w go to bed, the night of
Sunday excepted, without needing assist
ance, from the effects of partial intoxica
tion. It was a remarkable fact, that
though this evil habit held him with a gi•
ant's grasp, and had led him to degrade
himself, 10 disgrace his children, and almost
to break his poor wife's heart, yet such was
the indelible impression made on him in
childhood by pious parents, in regard to
the secret! observance of the Sabbath, that
I ever knew him to break it by getting
drunk on that holy day.
That devoted woman—Betsey, as he
called her—l have seen that drunken hus
band more than one hundred and filly
times, laying aside her work, or putting
down her child from her arms, to assist
him, reeling and tottering front his horse.
And during all this, amid indeed while I
was there, I never heard her use an unkind
word, or give him a rebuke.
One fine, bright morning, I saw him
start for court, dressed from head to foot in
a neat suit, every thread of which Betsey
had spite and woven with her fingers.—A
las, I saw him return home ngant—•how
changed ! sadly changed! Ile was not
only beastly drunk, but one skirt of his
coat was torn nearly off. and he was al
most covered with mud and dirt.
His wife met him as usual, only say=
ing :
"Never mind Billy, I can sew the skirt
of.timLcoat so that it can hardly be seen,
and to-morrow I will see what ! can do to
wards taking that mud off."
But again from the intemperate habits of
the father and husband, their little farm
was sold, and they removed further back,
into the wild, rough mountains of G—,
did not go with them, but I heard that
there they rented a poor piece of
bought an old house, and by this time they
had a son large enough to plow. He
ploughed the land, Reiser sowed the oats
and wheat, and planted the corn, pulled the
fodder, and helped - to gather in the crop io
the fall.
A delicate woman, reared in the lap of
luxury and refinement, brought to such toil
and drudgery ! And yet it is said that at
the harvest time she would sing and praise
God for his mercies in blessing her
handiwork, and giving her family ••daily
bread."
Time passed on. Being in the village of
C— on Saturday. I met a circuit preach
er of the Methodist church, with whom I
had long been acquainted. He asked me
to accompany hint into the mountains, and
preach at an appointment which he had
promised to fill on the morrow. After
some hesitation, I consented to do so.
When the hour of worship had arrived,
I preached Iron] the words. ••Come unto
me, all ye that are heavy laden, anti I will
give ye rest ;" whilst I wee pointing out
to the ainner the happy results of coming
to Christ, though he might have to labor,
though sin wearied him. and though it op
pressed him as a heavy burden, grievous
to be borne, I heard a voice which seemed
to come from the corner of the congregation,
saying :
"Thank God, I have experienced all
that ;. I came to Christ ••laboring , weary,"
and "heavy Wen," and I found relief."
I paused to listen, for I thought I had
heard that voice before. It was Billy's
voice.
And soon in another part of the house,
I heard a female voice thanking God for
his goodness and faithfulness in hearing
and answering her prayers. That was Bet
sey's voice. r
Then I heard the voices of children
weeping, and saw them raising their hands
to heaven in adoration. They were Bil
ly's and Betsey's children.
To my great joy, I learned that Billy
hid for some time been a constant member
of the church, and it was now no more a
cursed, miserable family, but they were all
now journeying towards heaven. Betsey
had long been, and now Billy was a pil
grim and a traveller to that "better cotire ,
try." Their home was blessed with peace
and joy.
Bee the power of woman's faith and pa.
fiance. For thirty years had Betsey been
besieging the throne of grace. And all
this while she staggered not at the promis
es of God, sod he at last heard her, and
sent her heart's desire. Prayer opens
heaven. ..My soul, wait thou only upon
God. for my ppeetation is from him."
A Pastor.
Marks of the Goa%Wawa.
No man is a gentlemen who, 'without
provocation, woik, treat with incivility
the humblest , orfils species. It is a vul.
garity for which uo accomplishments_ of
dress or address can ever atone. , Show
me the man who desires to make every one
.happy around him, and whose greatest so
licitude is never to give just cause 'of of
'fence to any one, and I will show you a
etlttletnan by nature
,and by prectiCe.
Mmlb he may- never have worn a suit of
broadcloth nor ever heard of* lezlcon. I
am pround to any, for the honor of our
species, that There are men in every throb
Of Whose ban there is solicitude for
the welfare of mankind, and whose
*ter, brelib is perfumed with kind
nese,.
How to lay ap Money tbr a Rainy
Day.
A number of years go. Charles and
Clara S.— were married in the city of
New York. Charles was wealthy and
in good business—very comfortable
cumetances for a young man. which tend.
ed, of course, to develops his naturally lib.
era! disposition. Feeling thus happy and
independent of the world's frowns. he pro
posed to his youthful bride, one day du
ring the honeymoon, to give her five
thousand dollars for every “seion of his
house" which should be engrafted upon
the family tree—an agreement. as may be
supposed, to which the lovely Clary made
not the slightest objection. Time passed
on—Charles faithfully performing his a.
greetnent, and making no inquiries as to
the disposition of her money by his better
half, until they had beau married some
ten years. Fortune, who had smiled with
constancy, suddenly turned her back, and
left him apparently high and dry among
die breakers of Wall street. When the
crisis had arrived. he went home with a
heavy heart to announce the sad news to
his wife that he was an irretrievably ruin.
ed man—that his property had all gone
to satisfy his creditors, and nothing was
left.
"Not exactly so bad as that, my dear,"
said Clara. "Wait a minute, and see
what I have been doing." Thus saying,
she ran up stairs, and soon returned with
a deed in her own namq, of one half of an
elegant block of houses id the neighbor
hood, worth thirty thousand
"You see I have been industrious," con
tinued she, "and have !aid up something
for n rainy day. If you had been seaman
as your brother, we might have had the
whole block by this time."—Kennebec
Journal.
Frew the
, Musiool World.
Mr. Clapp's Soliloquy.
Another girl. What can Mrs. Clapp
he thinking of I it is perfectly ridiculous !
There's four of them now, and this is four
more than is necessary. I don't believe
in girls—lovers and laces, ringlets and ro
mance*, jewelry and jump-ropes, silks and
satins ! what's to be dune 1 There's
whole chest full of my old clothes that I've
been saving to make my boys' jackets.—
' wile' Mrs. Clapp ever would think as I do.
Another girl! Who's to keep the name
in the family, rd like to know I I shall
be extinct ! And now she wants to put up
a note in church for "blessings received !'
Well, I suppose my girl* will turn to
boys, one of these days. (It's hard to be
facetious when a man's to be crossed and
thwarted in this way once a year.) Mrs.
Clapp has a very obstinate streak in liar
disposition in this respect. It's waste
powder to reason with her; it seems to go
into one ear and out of the other. If she
gets going on one particular track, you may
just fold your arms and let her take her
time to get off it. She knows I prefer boys,
thatwoman_doeis,jost as well as IdigAnqyA
her name is Hwy. Well, there's a limit
to human patience. I shall tell her
very decidedly, as soon as her gruel pro
bation is over, that a atop must be put to
this. It's no use for a man to pretend to
be master in his own house, when he is re/ I
—Funny Fern.
Rather Icy.
A raw youth from Maine strolled into
an eatiiig saloon in Boston, the other day,
and being asked, as he gazed wistfully at
the tempting dishes served out to the hun
gry feeders, what he would have, threw
down his hat and answered :
"Pork and beans are about as good at
anything ; I'll take a heaping plateful, I
will."
Having devoured the mess with happy
like celerity, he rose, and saying "much
obleeged," was about vamosing into the
street.
"Here, friend," cried the landlord, "you
have forgotten to pay."
"Pay I" said the youth, while lila eyes
protruded with fish-like conve:itys•'didn't
you invite me to eat ? Didn't you ask
me what I'd have 1 If that don't beat all
the notions I've sees in Boating yet—ask
a feller to dinner, and then want him to
pay for it I"
"Well, go along said the landlord, too
busy to dispute about a ninepence—"you
are a cool one."
"Why, yes. I'm jest so, Squire," wai
the reply, •you see I've just got on my
summer clothes."
BIAUTITUL THOUGHT.—There is but
one breath of air and beat of the heart be
tween this world and the next. And in
the brie' interval of a painful and awful
suspense, while we feel that death is with
us, that we are powerless, and He all
powerful, and the la s 4, taint pulsation here,
is but the prelude of endless life hereafter.
We feel in the midst of the stunning ca
lamity about to befall us. that earth has
no compensating good to the severity of
our loss. But there is no grief without
some beneficent provision to soften its in
tenseness. When the good and the love
ly die, the memory of their good deeds,
like the moonbeams on the stormy sea,
lights up our darkened hearts, and lends
to the surrounding gloom a beauty so sad,
so sweet, that we could nut, if we would,
dispel the darkness that environs us.
A GOOD ONIC TO Go.--" Paddy, honey,
will ye buy me watch 1"
"And is it about selling your watch ye
are, Mike !"
"Troth it is, darling'
, •What is the price r'
wren shillings and a mutchkin of the crea
ture."
qs the watch a decent one f"
"Our. and i've had it twenty years,•kod
it never °pee desaved me."
"Well here's your tin, and now tell me
does it go well th
Bedid an' it goes faster than any Watch
in Connaught. Munster, Ulster or Leinater,
not barring Dublin."
'•Bad luck to ye. Mike. then you have
taken we in. Didn't you say that it never
chuta wed , you 1"
••6nre an' I did ; nor did it, forl minor
pouted on it." -
♦ Bird Story.
That ardent admirer of nature, Mrs.
Child, tells a pretty anecdote about a fam
ily of swallow, which the was acquaint
ed with. "Two barn swallows,' she
says. "came into our wood-shed in the
springtime. "Their busy, earnest twitter
ing led me to suspect they were looking
oat a building spot; but as a carpeoter's
bench was under the window. and very
frequently hammering, sawing and planing
were going on, L had little hope that they
would choose a location under our roof.
To my surprise, however. they soon be
gin to build in the crotch of a beam over
the open doorway. I was delighted, and
spent more time watching thait "penny
wise" people would have approved. It
was. in fact, a beautiful little drama of do
mestic love. The mother bird was so
busy, and so important ; and her-mate
was so attentive I Never did any new
ly-married couple take more satisfaction
with their first newly-arrangeti - drawer of
baby clothes, than they did in fashioning
their little woven cradle.
The father bird seavettiv ever left the
side of the nest. There he was. all the
day long, twittering in tones that were
most obviously the nut-pouringe of love.—
Sometimes he would bring in a straw, or
hair, to be interwoven in the precious lit
tle fabric. One day my attention was ar
rested by a very unusual twittering. and I
saw him circling round, with ft large dow
ny feather in his bill. He bent over the
unfinished nest. end offered it so his mate.
with the moat graceful and loving air im
aginable, and when she put up her mouth
to take it, he poured forth such a gust of
gladsome souud ! It seemed as if pride
and affection lied swelled his heart till it
was almost too big for his little bosom.
When the young . became old enough to
fly, anybody would. have laughed to watch
the manwuvres of the parents I Such a
chirping and twittering ! Ruch diving
down from the nest, and flying up again !
Such wheeling round in circles, talking to
the young ones lathe while ! Such cling
ing to the sides of the shed with their
sharp claws, to show the timid little fledge-
lings that there was no steed of falling !
For three days all this was carried on: with
increased nativity. It was obvioulri,att
infant flying-school. But all -their.lalkiiig
and fussing was of no avail. The little
things looked down, then looked up, but.
alarmed at the infinity of spare, stink down
into the nest again. At length, the parents
grew impatient, and summoned their neigh
bourn. As I was picking up chips one
day. I found my head encircled bye swarm
of swallows. They flew up to the nest.
and jabbered away to the ycning ones ;
they clung to the walls, looking back to
tell how the thing wee done ; they dived
and wheeled, anti balanced, nod floated,
in a manner beautiful to behold. The [M.;
pile were evidently much excited. They
jumped on the edge of the nest, and twitter
ed, and shook their feathers, and waved
their wings, and then hopped hick again,
saying. 'li'. pretty sport, hat we can t o
it.' Three limes the neighbors came and
repeated their graceful lesson. 'Fite third
time two of the young birds gave a sudden
plunge downward, and then fluttered and
hopped till they lighted on a small upright
log.
koc keil oh ! sunli praises as were
war dby the whole troop ! The air
was filled with their joy ! Some were
flying around, swift as a ray of light ; cub.
er's were perched on the hoe handle and
the teeth of the rake; multitudes clung to
the wall. after the fashion of their pretty
kind, and two were swinging, in the most
graceful style en a pendant hoop. Never
while memory lasts, shall I forget the swal
low party.
A MODERN ROMULUS-STRANOIC STORY...-
Th. Delhi Gazette relates an almost incred
ible story of the discovery of a boy, who
had consorted with wolves so early that
nearly every trace of humanity had been
Inst. He walked, or ran, on all fours, and
after his removal int) the service of an of
ficer, he still delighted in the company of
Jackals and other four-footed animals,
which he would make his trencher nom
pinions. He was never known to smile,
and only ■poke once, to indicate that his
head ac lied. He died suddenly after drink
ing some water. Tbis poor creature was
recognized by his parents, but they soon
became disgusted and deserted him. His
age, at the time of his death, was apparently
twelve years.
A GIANT AID Plaistow,
in Esssex county. England, there at pre
sent res ides a woman, aged 20, who stands
six feet four inches in height ; the middle
finger on either hand measures nix inches ;
the length of her arm is twenty-eight inch
es. It is within the last three or four
years she has attained her present extra
ordinary height. There is every indica
don that two or three inched will be ad.
ded to her present statue. The Kentish
giant. Edward Crausar, is paying his ad
dresses to this young woman, and they
will probably be married. Crauser is on
ly nineteen years of age, and stands seven
feet nix inches. Eis father and 'pother
are below the middle stature, and . his sis
ters are dwarfish.
WISDOW or TOWN IstDlg4.—..Pa, why
don't you buy a hen, so we could have ail
the eggs we want."
NMv dear, one hen could not lay an the
eggs we want,"
°Why, yes it would, Pa, we only use
a dozen eggs a day, and a good hen would
certainly lay the meg."
Out ..devil"', says that this young lady
is a 'sister of the one who thought that
milk was pumped out of cows, and that
We mil wee the pomp beadle•
NIOVIIPAPIA ON Sur..—ln Pekin; China,
a newipaper of extraurdinerreimi pubr
Hefted weekly, on silk.. It is vial fcr hare
been started more than a thouiland years
Igo. An anecdote is related to the effect
that in 1727 a public officer caused sonic
false intelligence to be inserted in this
newspaper, for which he was put to delith.
Several numbers of the, paper 1$ Ice.
served In the floy'i,ltibraryt.."l,ttillio'lw
Tltity are smelt lett rout y dr* ls
TWO DOLLANII 141 i ANIWM.
)NUMBER 35.
Handsome Men.
Amer rem, a correspondent of the
Bastion Olive Branch, thus replied to an
individual who said rune body was not
calculated.to win a lady', heart bonus*
be was not handsome
•'Begging your panlon. Solomon, that's
a gruff nottake ! Its quite unessential
that a wan should be ..handsome." Let
hint pray the Clods, in the first plane, to
make him a 01115ITLIMILM-11 gentleman at
home as well as abroad. Let him stipu
late for fine figure and courtly, manner,
and leave it to , their discretion, after that,
to shape his eyes, nose and mouth, pro.
aided they dont make him perfectly hid-
Sive- De from your plaid-panted. bord
ered-vested, big-cravated, moustached. on.
lope-sprinkled, bejewelled, brainless es
geisha. Give us a well-informed,
dressed, self•possessed, intelligent mos
euline ; perfectly at home upon all sub
jects; foreign and domestic ; neither crin
ging to The great. nor oppressing the little;
who punt one hand on his sword. and the
other on his heart when a woman'. name
is mentioned ; who raises no blush on the
cheek of humbled innocence; who holds
in contempt no living thing that God hid
made ; • who esn pity the weak and erring
without ,a pharassieal reviling.; who eau
argue withontTose of temper , or dignity ;
who scorns a bribe or an oath; who , has
an arm tor trembling age, s smile lot ;init.
ding infancy, and a elm& brave Wart:
for the oppressed and defeneelesi:Sot ft
..pretly roan I"--'11 pink end While air
Brainkss r —the tanned wore of it tail*
hatter, shoemaker and perfumer 1-Aitsioy
vett save the mark I frontenknore bawl"
Annum:Yrs ,or Cm- CIROCILIM-40014
upon a time, during a debate in the UAL
Rouse ut Represanunives, on a bill for
increasing the number of hospitals, one Of
the Western members arose antlabseired,i
"Mr. aPeeker — * - ePinion Ist that tint
gineralilg of utinkinti, in • giant,. its
disposed to take the dieofilateige 4'olo
giliefulity of mankind in tinsmt."
••Bit 1104111 p sit down, ..whispered tits
Col., who sat near hint, "you are coming
out at the same hole•you went in at."
There is an old man in Heignutet' fitt
the frontiers of Hungary and Turkey; who
has attained the old age of 172 years. ' Ike
is still in posaeosion of ill his familties,
and smokes his pipe regularly.' NOl . ctithe
one hundred years since he made his'third
marriage with a girl of-ilineleeti f "whom he
has outlived by forty;four est*. ' '
,
Me American multi laibet4iti hi
now /*bout 8004, iikibtabititer a witeitery
of over 800 miles or: coast. They have
built about twenty cities and towns. They
have made treaties by which one. hundred
thousand natives are brought under their
laws and nearly a million have abandoned
• VII - • prnii.Agn,.a
plish this good has not exceeded a million
and a half of dollars. The society' WIN
for additional aid in their good work.
The poet Crebbe once, in a fermenting
mood, indited the following crabbed;
crooked. cross and crusty criticism:
Secrets with girls, like loaded smite With boy , .
Are never valued tiU they make noire.
To show how worthy; they their powers dhplev—
To show how worthy, they their trans hesre?
Like pence in children's pockets, arcrela Ile
In female hosoms—.they must burn or fly
The Woman's State Temperanee Con
vention. in session at Syracuse, silopied a
resolution to the offset that they. "will go
by the hundreds, if not by the tlinnasnils,
at the corning *million of the Nets 'York
Legislature, and present petitions with
their'own hands, to favor of the Maine
Law."
How light and °therm!•love.makes pen.
pie. Till the khot is tied. they frel so
spiritual that a porch of cobwebs support
ed'by pillars of srooki, are quite as sub
stantial an edifice as, they will everstand
in need of. What a change a few months
work—the cobweb* are superseded by
pork and beans, and the pillars of smoke
by bolsters made of cattails.
A notice of a recent steamboat etplm
*ion closes as follows: :spit&
swim ashore. So did the chambermaid.
She was insured for 117.000, sras.eOppir.
bottomed. and loaded with roilon."
A child was horn in Albany, the other
day, having six fingers and , six toes. Its
lace is perfectly round, there being an
nose or eyes, but with a ronod hole,for
the mouth. One who saw it lays th a t
“when it cries it whistles."
, Miss Brown, I have been to learn bow
to tell fortunes," said a young fellow to a
brisk brunette. "Just let me have your
hand, if you please."
"La I Mt. White, how sudden passe
Well; go and ask my father." „
An author or a love story, in destnitokni
his heroine, mays : ..innoeenee dwelle'
the rich clusters of her dark tulli."
waggish editor rug/eine that s dins tooth
U comb would bring out, , I
Loge is like honesty- much talked a
bout, but little Understood. • •
Cortes. in a leiter to Charles V., in 11.
lustintion of the advancitil elate of aoltniir
antoog•the Indians of 'Neale% says that
..they begged in the streets liked
people." •
AN ADVENT,ISEMKNT.
Hen Pisa, and gekto and Bier 1 eel%
Aud Oiaters amid and hi rthop'shell.
Wuna tew for Oulu 'bat tiwww,
Anti with ikspaich black buts and thew*.
Mrs. Partington says the only way to
prevent steamboat explosions is to Make
the engineers "bile their water" ashore.
In her opinion all the bustin' is caused by
"cooLtug the steam" on board.
An Irishman being in church whin 04
ettibialtue apparatus resembled eiesibul
'berme, fib itio beteg boded to bloc *Ma.
lcuodkc tbo , noniones oar dial Ist trocal
Ilaulal#ll4 cad couldn't row
..:.~.':~s.